Keeping it Together
by 10West
Summary: Darry is often credited with keeping the Curtis family together, but that is just one of the issues he deal with as he tries to find his place in life. Outsiders story and beyond, Darry's POV.
1. Lost Hour

_**Disclaimer:** S. E. Hinton owns everything about the Outsiders. Thankfully, I'm able to make use of her characters and story._

As soon as the first drop of rain stunned my sunburnt arm, I started thinking about all the things I could do with an extra hour. The laundry, of course, really had to get done or no one would have any clean clothes to wear tomorrow. Maybe I could separate out enough to get us through tomorrow. Then I could treat my brothers to dinner out. No, I'd make Ponyboy – my youngest brother – get his homework done so he'd have the weekend free. He'd probably think I was going to make him fix dinner tonight and do the laundry, but then I'd surprise him with a night just for the three of us. I could teach him how to play chess. Ponyboy is only fourteen, but he's probably the smartest person I know. Soda – that's my other younger brother – has the attention span of a flea and I've given up on playing with him. But Ponyboy would be good at chess. I bet within a week he'd beat me at every game.

Or we could go to the movies. Pony likes to go to the movies, but Soda and I rarely take him. I'm usually working, but mostly I feel kinda dumb at the movies seeing guys I knew in high school there with their girlfriends or talking about college. I wish I had a girlfriend or was in college, but I need to make money, so I roof houses during the day and work at a grocery store most nights. Definitely not what I thought I'd be doing at age twenty, but I'm usually too exhausted from working to think about it and be bothered by it. Plus, I'm used to it.

My parents were killed in an auto accident eight months ago, so I'm the legal guardian of Sodapop and Ponyboy. I can't imagine how many times I'd have been beaten up in the school yard if I'd had either of their names. Luckily for them, they had me around. My name is Darrel, but my brothers call me Darry. I don't so much care for my name. You'd think with a name like Darrel I'd have brothers named Billy Bob and Skeeter. I got the redneck name; they got the imaginative names.

Still, Darrel was my dad's name and because of that I'm proud of it. I loved my mom and miss her terribly, but my dad was my favorite person in the whole world. If you want to know the truth, I'm dying without him and my mom around. Sometimes I think I'll go crazy, but I've got to stay focused for my brothers' sake. I owe it to my brothers, and to my parents, to be strong for them and get them to adulthood. Sometimes it's not so bad, but the rest of the time it seems like I can't do anything right. I used to be able to do everything right in high school -- I made good grades, I was good in sports, I had a lot of friends -- but I just wasn't ready to run a family without any help. At least Mom and Dad had each other. I'm pretty much on my own.

They're good kids, though, my brothers. Sodapop is basically my exact opposite. He's loud, impulsive, emotional and can be kind of irresponsible. School was never his thing. We don't look alike either. I have dark brown hair and blue-green eyes; Soda has dark blond hair and brown eyes. Girls go crazy over him, and he knows it. He's a total charmer, though. He can get along with anybody, and he has an amazing ability to make people feel like they're the most important person in the room. He's not as dumb as he pretends to be, and that kills me sometimes. But he has a heart of gold. He dropped out of school so he could get a job and help me with the bills. I begged him not to, but he did have a point. We needed the money, and I couldn't afford to be going to school every time he got himself into trouble, which was fairly often. He looks out for me when he remembers to, and he's very close to Ponyboy.

I, on the other hand, have a hard time with Ponyboy. He can't stand me. I'm much more like him than Soda – he gets good grades in school, he's athletic and he never gets into trouble – but he and I are always bickering about something stupid. I swear, I act like I'm twelve years old when I'm around him. Soda always takes Ponyboy's side, which I suppose is fair since I'm older and should be more mature. I don't know why I'm like that because I consider myself a rational and levelheaded person. I guess I just wasn't prepared to raise a little brother.

I miss being a big brother. Pony and I used to get along fine when I could tease him or play football with him or help him with homework. But once I had to start telling him what to do, he treated me differently. I can't have it both ways, I guess. I'm responsible for him and if he hates me for looking out for him, there's not much I can do about it. Sometimes I think that if I just spent time with Pony while Soda wasn't around he'd open up to me a bit. That's why I'm getting so excited about this extra hour, which I may not have because it's not raining all that hard.

And then it came, as if straight down from heaven to save me: lightning. Only heavy rain gets you away from the roof, but lightning is an absolute deal breaker. I put the materials away as quickly as I could and was on my way home in minutes.

On my way back I stopped off at the convenience store for a snack. I'm always hungry, and it didn't matter that'd I'd be eating dinner in less than two hours. Some guy was selling records outside the store so I bought a few for Soda. He had really wanted one last week, but it was right before I got paid and he didn't have the money on him. His seventeenth birthday is coming up, so I figured I'd give him one record today and save the rest.

My hopes of a relaxing afternoon were shattered when I entered the chaos that is our house. We typically manage to keep it decent in case the social workers happen to drop in. On this particular day, it looked like a tornado had struck. Furniture was overturned, anything that had been in drawers or cabinets was out, and there were bits of food everywhere. I slammed the front door in frustration and was met with four simultaneous and strangely gleeful shouts of

"DARRY!"

Dallas, who was standing closest to me, punched me lightly in the arm and said, "You're just in time."

"In time for what?" I asked, not quite sure I really wanted to know the answer.

Raucous laughter. "Foodfight-legwrestling!"

"Oh. Obviously." That at least explained the scene. I wanted to knock all their heads together, but I had to grin at the absurdity of five tough greasers clowning around like third graders, and their overexcitement at my unexpected presence. No doubt Soda and Two-Bit were behind this. Two-Bit and Dally started to demonstrate as I grabbed a lamp perched precariously on the edge of the only remaining upright piece of furniture.

Sensing I might have been about to blow or pass out, Soda jumped up and ran over to me. "Don't be mad Darry, nothin's broken and we're gonna clean it all up."

I nodded absentmindedly.

"Hey," Soda asked, "why you home early?"

"Lightning."

"No kidding? It's sunny out now."

"Looks like it's my lucky day," I replied, with my eyes still fixed to the mess.

"Seriously, Darry, we'll clean it. We'll do it right now if you want."

And that's why I could never get mad at Soda. He didn't care if everyone in the room hated him for ruining their fun. He didn't want me to get upset. "Nah, it's okay. I just wished you'd done it outside."

During our little conversation, Two-Bit had scraped some food off of the wall. I got along with Two-Bit just fine. Everybody did. He was easygoing and funny and never got people mad intentionally. He adored Soda and was real good with Ponyboy, so that made him fine with me. When not at our house (which seemed like all the time) he lived with his mom and little sister. He had no job or plans to get one, but his mom didn't seem to care. He drank and shoplifted quite a bit. I wouldn't say we were close friends – I don't have a ton of respect for people with no job or work ethic – but I enjoyed his company more than anyone else's in our little gang.

Dallas and I had a strange relationship. We treated each other like friends, but neither of us could stand the other. He thought I was a self-righteous know-it-all and I thought he was a gutless loser. He stole, jumped people, got into trouble with the law, and had a violent temper. He wasn't exactly the person I wanted my kid brothers hanging out with, but I couldn't deny that he was a useful guy to keep around. If you were ever in trouble with the law, ol' Dally could get you out of it or at least tell you where to hide out. And he was surprisingly loyal. He belonged to some pretty rough gangs in New York and had been jailed at the age of ten, so it was fair to say that he came from a different world. Sure, the rest of us shoplifted or got into fistfights, but we were just poor and bored; Dally always seemed like he was out for blood. I have a huge physical advantage over pretty much everyone in our neighborhood, but I watched my step around Dallas – he was enough of a hothead that he'd pull a weapon on me if he felt like it.

His life consisted of pissing people off, breaking the law, and crashing at our house when necessary. He's not my brother, so it's not my business to say anything to him, and I don't. I let him come and go as he pleases, and even give him money when I can spare it. In exchange, I know that he'd fight to the death for either of my brothers. And for that, I'm grateful.

Steve Randle and I have a love-hate relationship. He's a few months older than Soda and they've been best friends since grade school. They do just about everything together, including working at the gas station on the corner. They've even dated the same girls. Steve is actually a pretty smart guy, and he's a genius with cars. His father is a total dick, a drunk who treats him like crap, so I sorta feel bad for him. It bothers him, getting kicked out of the house about once a week. In different circumstances, I bet that he could've grown up to be a politician. He can usually lie, cheat and steal without getting caught, and he's smart enough to manipulate people. I'm not entirely sure why Soda thinks the world of him, since he's not warm and understanding like my brother, but they're both kind of immature and playful. Steve is there for Soda when I can't be, and they're loyal to each other.

Steve can be a bit of a jerk to Ponyboy. I don't think Pony likes him at all, actually. Steve can't stand that Soda drags Pony with them everywhere, so he really resents Pony for this since no one can ever seem to get mad at Soda. Soda will go out of his way to do what Steve wants, but I'm sure I'll never see Steve do the same for Soda. Steve can be real selfish, and sometimes likes to get people mad just for the heck of it. I've almost flattened him for some of the dumb stuff he's said to me, but didn't only because Soda would never forgive me. Still, I've seen sides of Steve that even Soda hasn't. I'd seen Steve cry to me out of frustration or desperation and I've tried to talk some sense into him or calm him down. Sometimes, if only for a few hours, he'll stop being so hateful when someone does something nice to him.

Johnny Cade was the only being in the room who had not spoken nor stirred since I entered. He's sixteen and he's always been a shy kid, but after he got jumped a few months ago he's been extra withdrawn. He and Pony are tight, which is fitting because they're both so quiet. But Pony is bright and has more of a spark to him, and he seems to get Johnny talking. Johnny has it rough at home, too. His parents should never have been allowed to have kids. It seems so unfair that my parents are dead when people like Johnny's mom and Steve's dad are out there doing fine. We all like looking out for Johnny, I guess. It sort of gives us justification for picking fights and stuff. You'd have to be a pretty rotten person to not like Johnny. Even Dallas has never given Johnny any trouble, and for that Johnny pretty much treats Dallas like a god.

"Darry, what's in the bag?" Soda asked.

I'd almost forgotten. "Oh, Merry Christmas."

"It ain't Christmas."

"Well, shit, that tree I got is non-returnable."

Two-Bit and Soda laughed.

"Fine then. Early birthday present. Just open it."

Instead of opening the bag Soda ripped through it like he really was a kid at Christmas. Seeing him get all excited over a stupid record made the inevitable hour-long cleanup worth it.

"Darry! All three? Thanks so much."

"No problem, little buddy. Say, where's Ponyboy?"

Soda looked slightly worried. "I don't know. He probably stopped by the movies after school."

"It's not all that late, you know," Dallas muttered.

"Any afternoon movie would be done by now. Did he call here for a ride?" Blank stares. "Would you have even heard the phone?" I asked angrily and stormed outside.

Soda ran out after me and I could tell I was getting him mad. "Darry, he's fourteen, he's not a baby. If you'd just relax and enjoy yourself for like ten minutes . . ."

I wasn't listening. I was halfway down the block when I heard Ponyboy shouting for Soda. It was the Socs. "Soc" is sort for social set, the high society crowd, which clearly did not describe me or my gang. Truthfully, all this animosity based on where you live or how you dress or how much money your folks made didn't make sense to me. I didn't act or dress like a greaser or a Soc, but I lived in a greaser neighborhood so I had no choice but to take that side. At school I got along with all kinds of people – jocks, brains, greasers. There were plenty of Socs that tried to give me a hard time, but enough of them were friends with me that I never had any trouble. My brothers have had a harder time with this greaser versus Soc thing. I guess being quarterback and captain of the football team worked in my favor. Just about all the athletes and cheerleaders were Socs, and I got along with people on and off the field. Football was my in. Soda didn't have that once I graduated, and Pony is pretty much there on his own. He's got all the smart classes with the Socs, but he's more quiet than I was and doesn't try to make friends if he doesn't have to. Besides, he and Soda are proud to be greasers. I can't say I'm ashamed to be a greaser because I can't say that I'm a greaser. I'm me.

I reached Pony first since everyone else chased after the scrambling Socs. His eyes were open but he was staring blankly at me, as if he didn't know who I was. He'd been bloodied a bit, but it didn't seem to be anything too serious so I picked him up off the ground.

"Ponyboy. Hey, are you okay? Look at me." He still didn't respond so I shook him a bit. "Are you all right, Ponyboy?"

"I'm okay. Quit shaking me, Darry, I'm okay.

I stopped. "I'm sorry." And that's pretty much the way it was with me and my youngest brother. He never looked me in the eye, always had some sort of attitude to give me. I was the only one who went to him, to see if he was okay, and he got all tough on me. It bugged me, even though it's exactly what I would've done if I were him. He looked a little dizzy so I steadied his arm but he pulled away and sat down and started rubbing his swollen cheek.

He was going to have a black eye and would probably be sore for a few days, but it could have been a lot worse. It could have been like Johnny. "They didn't hurt you too bad, did they?"

"I'm okay," he said quickly. I could see his hands shaking nervously and he looked like he was going to cry, but I know how he likes to act tough around me. I went to sit down next to him but Soda came up from behind me and plopped down next to Ponyboy.

"You got cut up a little, huh, Ponyboy?"

"I did?" Suddenly Pony had all the words and time in the world for Soda. I sighed. Watching the two of them carry on like they were in a Hallmark commercial while I stood there like a log was an everyday occurrence, but I was growing weary of it. So, I just watched them, thankful that Pony really was all right.

Tears welled up in Ponyboy's eyes as he turned away from me and Soda put a hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Ponyboy. They ain't gonna hurt you no more."

He was crying now. "I know. I'm just a little spooked, that's all." He hurriedly wiped his tears and glanced over at me.

Soda rubbed his hair. "You're an okay kid, Pony."

He smiled at this. "You're crazy, Soda, out of your mind."

This was getting old. "You're both nuts," I said tiredly.

Soda cocked an eyebrow at me, a trick he'd picked up from Two-Bit. "It seems to run in this family."

I was about to give him some smart-mouth answer, but I didn't have any so I just grinned at him.

The rest of the gang had come back over by now. Pony hastily wiped his eyes. "Didya catch 'em?"

"Nup," said Two-Bit, "They got away this time . . ."

I studied them all closely as the six of them sat down to talk and have a cigarette. I hate smoking and I can't stand that my brothers do it, but even my parents didn't seem to care too much, so that's one battle I choose not to fight.

Steve's voice caught my attention. "What were you doin' walkin' by your lonesome?"

"I was comin' home from the movies. I didn't think . . ."

"You don't ever think," I said with irritation, "not at home or anywhere when it counts. You must think at school, with all those good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub. And if you did have to go by yourself, you should have carried a blade."

Soda was glowering at me with annoyance. He hates when I get on Ponyboy's case about anything. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It ain't his fault he likes to go to the movies, and it ain't his fault the Socs like to jump us, and if he had been carrying a blade it would have been a good excuse to cut him to ribbons."

Soda never cuts me any slack. "When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid brother, I'll ask you – kid brother." But I shut my mouth after that since I was already sounding dumb and I shouldn't have scolded Pony in front of the gang. My dad did that to me once and I was horrified.

"Next time get one of us to go with you, Ponyboy," Two-Bit said. "Any of us will." That was probably true except for Steve and Dally.

"Speaking' of movies, I'm walking' over to the Nightly Double tomorrow night. Anybody want to come and hunt some action?" Dally asked.

"Me and Soda are picking up Evie and Sandy for the game," Steve said, glaring at Ponyboy as if to dare him to ask to come along.

It was fruitless to even ask me. "I'm working tomorrow night."

Dally turned to everyone else. "How about y'all? Two-Bit? Johnnycake, you and Pony wanta come?"

"Me and Johnny'll come," Pony piped up. "Okay, Darry?"

"Yeah, since it ain't a school night." My parents had been pretty lenient about letting us go out any night we wanted, but were surprisingly strict about how much of our weekend we spent away. As long as no one got into trouble, I didn't care.

While the rest of them hung around, I slipped away unnoticed to deal with the aftermath of food-fight leg-wrestling and start dinner. We take turns making dinner and having the other two do the dishes, but I'm almost always the one who ends up cooking. Pony doesn't really know how, and frankly, I can't stomach most of what Soda puts on the table. I ate while I cooked, threw it on the table for Soda and Pony, and headed over to Two-Bit's to move the dresser.

The moving of the dresser turned out to be an hour and a half ordeal. Two-Bit is a pretty strong guy, but the two of us were really struggling. He didn't quite get what I meant about angling the dresser and I had to keep stopping to show him. He let go a few times without telling me and had me pinned to the wall or dropping the thing on my foot. I would've punched him a few times were it not for the three ton dresser between us. Two-Bit was grateful, though, and made me hang around for a while and play darts with him while he had a few beers.

By the time I got home I was exhausted. And I hadn't even started the laundry. White-hot pain shot through my side as I bent down to pick up some towels off the bathroom floor. I winced and jumped up. I pull muscles all the time at work, but this was pretty bad. I grabbed my side. The pain was making me a little lightheaded.

Soda saw me. "Darry? You okay."

I closed my eyes and nodded.

"Sit down, Darry, please. Relax. I bet you haven't sat down since breakfast."

It was the truth. I shrugged it off. "I'm fine. I've got to do laundry."

Soda just laughed. "Now? Pony's finishin' up his homework and you look about ready to pass out."

"We have no clean clothes," I insisted.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Well I guess we'll all be stinky and dirty tomorrow. If we travel together, no one will know if it's one of us or all three. C'mon. Let me give you a back rub."

"I don't need one. Look, I'm working two shifts tomorrow."

"Not if you can't move. Darry. Lie down."

"Fine. But quick because I really have to do laundry." I hate it when my kid brother tells me what to do. He tugged on my arm as I staggered to my bedroom and flopped down onto the bed. I must say, though, Soda gives great back-rubs. You just have to not mind him rambling on about whatever is on his mind. I was barely hearing him tonight as he went on about his last date with his girlfriend Sandy. "Rub harder, Soda, you're gonna put me to sleep."

"Quiet, Darry." For all the talking he does, Soda can be downright pushy when someone else talks.

"Is Pony okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. Just a little bruised."

"You know what I mean. He's never been jumped before. Has he?"

"No. But he probably felt worse about you hollerin' at him than anything the Socs did to him."

"I know. I feel really bad about it."

"Then show him. Tell him. Apologize."

"It wouldn't do any good. He hates me."

"No, he thinks you hate him. And you don't give him a reason to think otherwise."

"I don't hate him," I whispered, feeling hurt. "I wasn't mad at _him_. I was mad at myself for letting it happen. It made me think of the first time you got jumped.'

Soda paused and sat on the edge of the bed. "Darry, that was years ago. It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it, and it would have happened eventually. You can't be there to save me and Pony every time we get into some trouble. You have to trust us."

"I trust you . . ."

"And Ponyboy too." Soda was rubbing my forehead. That always puts me to sleep. "Give him a chance. Stop treating him like a little kid."

I sighed, tired as hell but about to cry in frustration. "I really am sorry. I was too hard on him and I feel lousy. I shouldn't have gotten on his case when he was already down. I just worry about him. I don't know, I guess ever since you got jumped I felt like I failed you. I thought that maybe if I could stop it from happening to Pony, it would make things seem right. Give me a purpose for stayin' in this crummy neighborhood."

"Darry, Pony and I are lucky to have you. Pony doesn't always realize how much you do for us." He paused for a second. "Never tell him I said that, okay? I know you love him, but you gotta make sure he knows too."

I wanted to tell him Soda how hurt I get when Pony always heads straight for him and never me, but I didn't know how to say it without sounding bitter and jealous. While I tried to think of something to say, Soda changed the subject and went back to rambling on about his girlfriend. I listened and chimed in when he asked me something, but soon my eyelids got heavy and I let him do all the talking. For a split second before I fell asleep, I remembered that stupid hour and cursed it.


	2. I Knew It

_Disclaimer: I still don't own The Outsiders._

For one fleeting moment in the day, I remembered that it was the weekend. Weekends were just another day for me – another day to get up early, scramble around the house, go to work, and then later on go to work again. Not exactly what I'd had in mind for my life, but slowly I'd gotten used to the routine.

I had been just about to start my first semester of college when my parents died. It never occurred to me to do anything other than switch gears and stick around for my brothers. Though quite a few people have told me how great it is that I gave up so much for my brothers, it wasn't all that selfless of a decision on my part. At that time, I couldn't imagine starting something new, being alone, and missing my parents – I just wanted to be with my brothers.

After I graduated high school I used to tell myself that it wasn't a big deal if I didn't start college right away, since I would go in the next few years. When Dally or Steve or whoever pissed me off (or I them), I would remind them that they wouldn't have to deal with me that much longer because I'd be out of that neighborhood as soon as I had the chance. Nowadays, bringing up the topic of college around me is admittedly awkward, as I am stuck right in the middle of all the things I want to leave behind – except my brothers, of course.

I was thinking about all of this on the way home from work when I remembered that Soda was out with Sandy, and Pony was at the movies. As much as it would have been nice to come home and relax with my brothers, it was even nicer to know that I'd have at least an hour or two by myself. Though it was tempting to go to sleep immediately, I would get to do that later. Right now, I could do whatever I wanted without having to remind Pony to do his homework or coax Soda into doing his chores.

The house was eerily quiet without anyone there, so I turned on both the television and the radio while I fixed myself something to eat. Later, I curled up on the sofa to read some of the newspaper, but my back hurt too much so I lay on the floor, stretched out flat on my back. After a minute of staring at the ceiling, I reached up and grabbed a pillow for my head.

When we were little, Soda and I would get up real early on Saturdays and make forts out of the cushions on the sofa. While my parents slept in, Soda and I would jump off the top of the sofa onto piles of cushions, pillows and blankets. I usually set up the fort, but I would make Soda test everything before I'd jump from the top of the sofa. Once when I was about ten, I was lying on the floor in the exact position I'm in now when Soda deliberately jumped from the top of the sofa and landed hard on my chest. I'd gotten the wind knocked out of me so badly that I thought I'd die, but I didn't dare tell my parents for fear that they'd put a swift end to Saturday morning sofa festivities.

I laid there on my back for quite a while. Man, was I tired. I probably would have fallen asleep right there on the floor if Soda hadn't burst through the door. He stopped to give me a puzzled look, and then walked up to me slowly. I smiled, wondering if he'd ever guess that I was picturing him jumping off of the sofa.

I grabbed Soda's ankle and tried to trip him. "You're home earlier than I thought you'd be," I said as Soda made no effort to get out of the way.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess"

Soda just stood there, staring at me. I knew something was up, because he never came in this early on a weekend unless Sandy or Pony or Steve was with him. I got up clumsily and leapt onto the sofa as Soda gazed at the ground.

"You okay Soda? Did something happen with Sandy?" I asked quietly.

Soda said nothing, and wouldn't look at me.

"Everything okay, little buddy?"

I watched as large, silent tears streamed down my brother's face. I slid over on the sofa and motioned for him to sit down, which he did.

"Hey, come on. What's up?"

"Darry, I have to tell you something. Don't get mad."

I didn't like the sound of this one bit. "Whatever it is, tell me."

"I didn't mean for this to happen, I swear, and I'm so sorry, but it did and I'm really upset and I don't want you yelling at me right now."

I hesitated for a few seconds and observed Soda, whose hands were trembling ever so slightly. "I won't yell," I offered. I thought about all the terrible things he could tell me. Suddenly, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Where's Ponyboy?" I asked urgently.

"I don't know, but he's with Johnny, I'm sure he's fine," Soda said quickly, looking flustered. "It doesn't have anything to do with him."

"What did you do?" I asked sternly.

Soda looked like he was about to confess to multiple murders. "I'm so sorry, Darry. You're gonna kill me."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll wait until you've had a chance to say goodbye to Ponyboy, now tell me before I have to beat it out of you."

Soda took a deep breath. "Sandy's pregnant."

I knew it. I knew it. I knew I should have been on to that. All he ever talks about is Sandy. I should have seen this coming. I should have threatened him with all sorts of stuff if he ever got some girl pregnant.

"Soda . . ." I whispered in disbelief. There was no way I could say anything. As much as I wanted to throttle him, I just didn't want to deal with this at the moment so I got up without a word and went to my room.

Soda ran after me. "You promised me you wouldn't get mad."

I stopped abruptly and turned to face Soda. "No, I promised I wouldn't yell. And you're right, I probably will kill you. Now leave me alone for a moment. And don't go ANYWHERE!"

I angrily slammed the door to my room and paced around what little area there was. My almost seventeen-year-old brother was going to have a child. He couldn't even remember where he left his keys or his wallet, and he's going to be a father. He can't sit still through a meal or take anything seriously. This was just great.

What would my parents have done? If it were me, I'd have gotten hell. Whatever I did wrong was always so much worse because I was supposed to be a good example to my younger brothers. (Soda – and especially Pony – always got off easy.) My parents would have gone nuts. But they would have let me live, of course. They wouldn't have kicked me out, but they would have made me feel so miserable and guilty that I inevitably would have chosen to flee as soon as I had the means.

Mom would want me to be reasonable. After all, she had been pregnant with me before she and my dad were married. This fact was never pointed out, but when I was old enough I did the math. Soda hadn't killed anyone. He hadn't stolen anything. He wouldn't be going to jail. Getting your girlfriend pregnant wasn't the worst thing ever, but it certainly was something that could have been avoided and it was something that was just not going to work for so many reasons.

Every now and then, I could hear Soda cry and choke out a few words.

"I'm so sorry . . . Come on, talk to me, I don't even care if you yell . . . I'm worried about Sandy, I love her . . ."

Honestly, I believed every word he was saying. I don't think he's old enough to know what real love is, but in his mind, I'm sure he really thought he loved her.

Soda was still crying, and his appeals were getting less coherent. "Please . . . You don't understand . . . I love her, Darry."

I thought about the girlfriend I had throughout most of my senior year of high school. I'd had a girlfriend at some point in every year of high school, but I really fell for Julia. Most of the guys I hung out with would not have picked her out of a crowd, but I thought she was beautiful and perfect. Brown hair and brown eyes, not tall but not short, smart but not snotty. I figured I would marry her one day.

I think I got her pregnant. Towards the end of the school year, she started acting strangely towards me. One of her friends hinted to me that Julia was pregnant, but I certainly didn't want to bring that up in conversation. I was terrified. Foolishly, I just sort of hoped that if I ignored the issue, it might go away. In retrospect, I was a total coward about that.

Julia died in a car accident three weeks after graduation. I never mentioned my suspicion that she was pregnant, though I always have wondered. I'm convinced that I could have dealt with it, but I'm not convinced that Soda can deal with this now. It wasn't the end of the world, and we could deal with it. I knew that, but I wasn't sure if Soda did.

I opened my door a crack, peering at Soda crying pitifully as he sat up against the living room wall trying to smoke a cigarette. That's what I wanted to do right now – just cry and wait for someone to come along and help me out. Either that or punch lots of holes into my wall.

Slowly, I trudged back into the living room and sat on the sofa, passing Soda but not looking at him. I leaned back and closed my eyes, waiting to see if Soda would say anything. "I decided not to kill you," I said sarcastically, "now get over here."

Refusing to open my eyes, I sat there tapping my fingers as Soda sniffled and shuffled towards me. He sat down next to me and hugged me, though I remained frozen like a statue.

"I'm so sorry, Darry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to. Please don't hate me."

"Is it yours?" I asked sharply.

Soda seemed taken aback by this. "Of course. I mean, it better be."

"I can't believe it," I said softly. "How could you be so careless?"

"I wish it weren't true."

I opened my eyes and slid away from him. "Well? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to tell you that everything is fine? That you being a father at seventeen won't be a big deal?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you telling me this?" I asked angrily.

"You would find out anyways, and I thought you could try to understand. You know I didn't want this to happen, Darry . . ."

"But it did! You never learn, you know? I thought you were smarter than that." Despite the best of intentions, I couldn't hide how frustrated and disappointed I was, so everything I said came out harshly.

Soda looked at me apologetically. "Do you think there's any chance that those people from the state will split us up when the baby's born?" he whispered.

I got up and walked towards the front door, massaging my neck with my hand. "I don't know, Soda. It was hard enough for me to convince them that I could handle two teenage boys. I can't imagine they'd let you or me raise a little baby."

"I would never ask you to be responsible for that baby."

"No, of course you wouldn't. But do you really think you can afford to move into your own place, support Sandy and a baby? You know you can't, and you know that I will just have to be there to take care of your mistakes like I always do, for both you and Pony."

"That's not fair!" Soda cried. "This is the last thing I wanted to happen. You know I don't want us to get separated."

"You don't want you and Ponyboy to be separated," I shouted. "Neither of you would care less if I were in the picture, except that you both need me to take care of things like bills and housework and solving all your problems."

"Darry, stop yelling and getting yourself upset. You're already stressed and I know you're mad at me . . ."

"Don't turn this into some sudden concern for my health," I snapped. "If you didn't want me to be stressed you should have thought about the consequences of your actions."

"You know Pony and I both care about you. We both know how hard you work and everything you give up for us. Just because we don't plan out every moment of our lives doesn't me we don't care."

"You two wouldn't notice me dead on the kitchen floor until the lights went out – because I wouldn't have been there to pay the electric bill. That's when one of you would try to find me."

Soda shook his head in disbelief and started crying again. "How can you say that? I'd be lost without you. Pony would too, he just doesn't realize it. Me an' Pony want all three of us together."

"Well, it feels like I'm the only one around here that actually does something about it," I yelled. I sat down on the arm chair and tried to calm down. "I never thought that at twenty years old I'd be working nonstop, never having any time to myself. I hate being so busy and tired but I do it for you and Pony, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep us together. Meanwhile, you're out getting your girlfriend pregnant and Pony's out doing . . . I don't know what, but I'm sure I can count on the fact that he isn't thinking about what could happen to him and he's putting himself in a dangerous position, as usual."

"What will Pony think when he finds out?" Soda asked out of nowhere. "Maybe we should wait 'til tomorrow to tell him."

"Un uh. You tell him," I said, pointing a finger at Soda. "You explain to him that the money that you could have contributed for his track shoes or for food or whatever is gone because you have to support a baby."

"I never thought this would happen, Darry. I promise I didn't mean to."

"Stop being so dramatic," I ordered, slightly annoyed. Dutifully, Soda wiped his eyes and sat up straight. He looked miserable. I couldn't figure out if he felt worse about telling me or the prospect of telling Ponyboy, but I guess it didn't really matter.

"You know," I said casually, "you're going to have to work more hours. Not go out as much."

Soda nodded soberly. I hated seeing him like this. He's always upbeat, but when he gets overwhelmed, he takes things really hard. I sat next to him and waited until he looked me in the eye.

"Do Sandy's parents know?" I asked.

"Not yet," Soda sighed. "_They _will kill me, they've never liked me."

"They won't kill you, Soda. You know I wouldn't let them," I said, trying to force a smile.

Soda grinned. "How'd you stop being mad at me so easily?"

Instantly I stopped smiling. "I'm still mad at you. I'm mostly worried about Ponyboy right now. He should have been home by now."

"Well, it was kind of good he wasn't, ya know . . . for all this."

"It's _never_ good when he's not home. He just got jumped, he never thinks about what's going on . . ."

"He's a good kid, Darry. You're always on his case when I'm the one who usually screws up more."

I raised an eyebrow at Soda and said, "I will definitely keep that in mind from now on. But it doesn't mean that Pony can do whatever he wants."

It was true, though. I had assumed that Soda, though playful and energetic, was responsible enough that I could simply trust him to make the right decisions. Even though Pony was intelligent, he was too immature and scatterbrained to get by without Soda and I looking out for him, and Soda actually agreed with me on that.

"Darry, he's fine," Soda assured me.

I shook my head. "Not the way this day's been going," I muttered.


End file.
